


I Can Touch Your Hair And Taste Your Skin.

by paperdragon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Unexplicit violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1276837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdragon/pseuds/paperdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She's the loneliest person he's ever met. She might even be lonelier than him. She looks at him, and there's a small smile on her lips. In that moment, he is sure that he loves her. And so is she of loving him." Jaime/Lyanna</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Touch Your Hair And Taste Your Skin.

He hadn’t considered her to be like this. He does not actually know what this is- but he knows one thing. She is so different than all the other people he’s seen in his life. Her grey eyes meet his on the fateful day. The night is dark and thunder erupts every few moments, cracking the black sky in a misarranged line of pure white.  
She stands outside the King’s room- which he is guarding. Sounds of passionate love making are heard often. Her eyes are however, he notes, completely unbothered by this. Her eyes show no pain, no interest and no anger- nothing. Dead.  
“Doesn’t it bother you?” He asks. “After all, he is dishonoring you, Your Grace.” There is a slight tone of amusement in his voice that he cannot hide- and she sighs before answering.  
“Even if it did, Ser, why would I stop it?” She asks in return. “And as for my honor, listen to any song that is sung- you’ll find that the dragon’s whore does not have any honor.”  
With that she walks away- but those silver-grey eyes never leave him. And for some reason, he is very sure that they are more ghosts he must be haunted by for the rest of his life.  
X  
He isn’t sure when he starts noticing small things about her- the way her eyes come alive when she hears news about the north, or the way she holds herself through King Robert’s indiscretions, or the way she rides a horse like a man every morning- fast as lighting, and no one can stop her- not even the king who looks at her as if she’s the sun.  
Too bad she would give everything to be anything else.  
He shakes his head away from thoughts like these- because well, when did any good come from thoughts like these?  
Unfortunately, he can’t keep away.  
X  
She starts wondering when he became Jaime- not Lannister, or part of the kingsguard, or Ser- just Jaime.  
One day- two moons after their first meeting- she realizes he’s become part of her life; It’s him that rides with in the morning, it’s him that accompanies her to slow councils where her husband cannot be bothered to come, it’s him that tells her the most far-fetched gossip about each lord, lady and lordling and promises her that they’re true and makes her come close to smiling, and it’s him she starts to look forward to each sun she wakes up.  
X  
He has a certain glow on his face this certain day, and she cannot help but inquire the cause.  
“My sister is coming to court.” He says, and he cannot stop the sincere smile that spreads across his face.  
She feels a tight coil of jealousy around her heart- a silly thing, of course. After all, she isn’t little Lyanna Stark anymore- she is Queen Lyanna, wife of King Robert Baratheon, and she has spent thirty-six moons training herself to be indifferent, to not care, to be the ice queen she’d been called in spite.  
After all, Queen Lyanna is not allowed to feel anything, is she now?  
Feelings are for people with hope. People who have a reason to look forward.  
People unlike her.  
She smiles back- a smile she has perfected each day- and wishes him a good day. And then she leaves.  
He does not stop her, and neither does he notice the isolation that accompanies her as she walks away.  
X  
Robert does not stop fucking Cersei even after her marriage is announced to his brother. She knows since he hasn’t even bothered trying to bed her ever since the pretty lioness arrived at court.  
Good for them, she thinks. As long as he stays away- she does not care if he has his head between a new woman’s thighs each passing day.  
She does not think of how ever since the announcement, Ser Jaime Lannister has been aloof- far more than her- and he’s been annoyed, and he has been acting like a broken-hearted fool than a worried sibling. And that’s when she gets it. Slowly every bit and piece comes together.  
The way he gets that shine in his eye every time he talks about her, how he looks so sad every time he sees her leaving with the king.  
And she does not say a word about it.  
The Gods know she is in no position to judge.  
After all, isn’t she the woman who ran away from her betrothed with a dragon prince in the name of silly old love?  
X  
The wedding can also be called the worst ceremony to ever happen. From the looks of Cersei, she looks ready enough to stab her new husband through the back with the same knife Robert is cutting his stuffed boar from. Her husband, Stannis Baratheon, does not bother making conversation- he simply frowns at every chance he gets to; He complains and broods over everything. Her own husband is no better- he flirts with ever serving wench to cross his eye, and he drinks so much that he thumps her on the back every time he says something, and Lyanna finds herself feeling the same urge as Cersei.  
What is worse is that she cannot find Jaime for the life of her. He had only been there for the official ceremony- and after that he’d left- letting another guard take his place. She hadn’t a moment’s time to find him.  
After a few moments and a hard thump to her back, courtesy of Robert, she understands that he needs time to be left alone.  
She cannot believe it, however, when she goes to find him- after the bedding, and after Robert’s back in a new girls’ bed.  
She finds him in the training yard, attacking the wooden mast with hit after hit. She does not say a word. She just watches him, as his anger leaves him and exhaustion takes its place.  
For some reason, she feels as if he does not deserve the pain of a broken heart.  
Silly, after all. Who gets what they deserve in this world. Except for her, of course.  
X  
One moon later, when she has almost started to believe that she is alone again- he arrives, gallant as ever.  
Apparently, all thoughts of his sister have left him, and he does not bring her up ever. She doesn’t either.  
When do such topics bring up any good?  
X  
He’s the one guarding her room when he hears her yell. It’s a sound that strikes terror into every bone of his, and he rushes in- afraid that something has happened to her when he is supposed to be protecting her.  
She cries out again, but he notices that she is asleep- plagued by terrors just as he is some nights.  
When he wakes her, she is all but too glad. She throws her arms around him as¬ if he has saved her from some terrible fate instead of waking her up from a nightmare. Her breathing is rough and short.  
“Thank you, Jaime.” She says, holding on tight. It’s the first time she has called him by his given name, throughout the time they had known each other.  
“It is alright, Lyanna.” He replies, his arms coming around her. It’s the first time he’s ever called her by her name.  
When he leaves- she is silent, more so than usual. She almost calls out to him to stay, but steels herself against it. What does that say about honor?  
Already people have begun talking- a woman who cannot keep to one bed with the kingslayer.  
X  
They stop their horses a few miles away from the castle. Its calm there- the green grass is un-kept and long, and the soil is moist and cool from the dew. She sits there, and at her invitation he sits next to her. For a moment, just one precious moment, they are not who they are. She is not Queen Lyanna, high mighty and bold, and he is not Jaime Lannister, the king slayer, arrogant and strong.  
They’re just people.  
That’s something Lyanna yearns for sometimes- the feeling of simply being completely and unabashedly normal. She wishes she can run barefoot on the street- and listen to songs about some silly queen named Lyanna- and not care about them. She wishes to feel the wind in her hair, and have someone who makes her laugh and makes her feel alive.  
And then the moment’s gone. And so is her allowance to wish.  
After all, an Ice Queen does not have regrets, now does she?  
She looks at him, carefully observing him. After a while, he notices her gaze on him, and he turns to look at her. Like that fateful day, so long ago, their eyes meet again. They’re close, she realizes, too close.  
“Would you rather be somewhere else, Ser?” She asks him, concerned that he is silent.  
“Not at all, Your Grace. I’m perfectly alright here.” He assures her, although he isn’t sure for what.  
At that she feels a strange pull inside her. A strange urge that tells her to forget her duty, honor, the consequences and close the small distance between them.  
She quickly shoves that thought far, far away, where it belongs.  
X  
Almost everyone is gone by the time Lyanna is informed what is going on. Another one of Robert’s hunting trips. Only the servants remain.  
She stops her horse when she cannot see the stone castle behind her.  
Unfortunately, memories do not disappear out of sight like castles do. She finds herself missing his company, his talks, his stories of casterly rock- and then she has to admit to herself.  
She misses him. She missed Jaime Lannister.  
She cannot believe it. She hasn’t missed anyone in a very long time. She’d missed her brother- Benjen, who hadn’t stayed no matter how much she’d begged, and she had missed Ned, who she knew had not forgiven her no matter how many times he falsely said he had. She had missed their father, and Brandon, even Rhaegar of all people!  
Until she’d realized that missing them would not bring them back; it would not erase her mistakes and it would not raise the dead.  
And so, slowly but surely, Lyanna with her black Stark hair and her love for freedom slowly turned into Queen Lyanna, who did not care about anything or anyone.  
Her façade is cracked now, and what she grieves to admit was, she honestly does not mind.  
X  
He smirks at her when he returns and sees her on top of the large balcony of her room- where she might have been pacing ever since she returned from her ride.  
She smiles at him for a few moments, and then returns inside.  
She sleeps soundly knowing he’s the one who’s guarding her.  
X  
He hears her fighting with Robert after two moons have passed. The King as usual, is drunk as he always is, and yells loudly.  
“I don’t want you with him, Lyanna!” He shouts, and Jaime hears the crash of glass.  
Lyanna yells right back. He didn’t expect any less from her.  
“I don’t care what you want!”  
There’s a pause as the words hang in the air.  
As Ser Barristan arrives to take his place, he is most unfortunate and cannot listen to more.  
X  
A strange look comes over Robert’s face at her words. When he speaks again, it is softer, and full of emotion- almost vulnerable.  
“Lyanna, I love you. Please. I tell you, he is not a good man” He says, and she feels like rolling her eyes and asking him very sweetly, as if you are? He continues.  
“People are making up stories about you and the kingslayer. They say the way you two are together is…improper.”  
Lyanna wants to rip at her hair, slap her oaf of a husband until he gets it. She is so tired of living her life the way people want her to. What will it take to get it into his mind that she does not care what people say about her?!  
“Robert, darling.” She starts, in the iciest voice she can manage. “The way you and Cersei behaved is improper. The way you behave each night is improper. My friendship with Jaime, however, is not.”  
And as quick as the vulnerability came, it goes. Robert’s eyes shift from pained to angry- and she knows what is coming before it happens. His large hand hits her across the face, and she falls, clutching her throbbing face.  
His face is red, and the stink of wine is close to her. She wills herself to stand up, her hands squeezed so tightly against themselves that her nails leave crescent marks on her skin. She finds strength in her some place that she did not know to exist.  
“If you are done, my King, I would like to be excused.” She says.  
After that she walks out, her head held high even though her face hurts so much. Ser Barristan looks at her with pitiful eyes. When she enters her chambers, she asks one of her handmaids to find the maester and bring him to her.  
She does not leave her room for the next three days.  
X  
He wonders where she is. He finds himself thinking of her- the entire time, and he finally admits it to himself.  
Jaime cannot understand why exactly he is so bothered by her disappearance. People need time to themselves sometimes. For some reason, he has an indescribable urge to kick down her door and make sure she is alright.  
He’s standing outside the king’s door when a frail girl comes up to him, and quickly shoves the parchment into his hands. She does not dare seek his eyes, and as soon as it is out of her reach, she runs off.  
He unfolds it quickly, his treacherous hands almost shaking.  
Meet me at the Godswood, Tonight. When the moon is at its high.  
The writing is delicate, well practiced. He almost feels happy by the newest revelation.  
Jaime Lannister decides that he hates waiting.  
X  
When Lyanna ends the path to the Godswood she notices that he is there early. She is surprised, but glad nonetheless. She does not reveal herself, not for a good few moments. He’s beautiful- she finds herself thinking, with his golden hair and those bright emerald green eyes. He’s handsome too, but he’s beautiful in a different way. He has this aura around him, something that makes him- indescribable. She can’t explain it.  
When she looks at him, the moonlight is shining through the trees making elaborate patterns on the ground. And she wants the world to stop. She chastises herself for silly thoughts such as those.  
She steps forward, coughing loudly to make her presence known. He turns to look at her, and gives her a smirk enough to make all the women of court swoon. She smiles back, after what seems like immeasurable time.  
“You came.” She says, and he senses the question behind it.  
“Did you ever doubt me?” He asks in the most innocent of ways. “As if Your Grace called and I wouldn’t come running.”  
He smiles at her, and she cannot help but smile back too.  
In that moment, she is sure that she loves him.  
X  
She’s the loneliest person he’s ever met. She might even be lonelier than him. At least he had Cersei- the only woman he’d ever looked towards without an innocent thought. They’ve dismounted their horses for a long time, but none of them moves.  
He finds himself wanting to be close to her. He wants to touch her, to talk to her, to never be away from her.  
He looks her standing quietly, and he puts a hand to her shoulder. She turns around, glaring at him playfully, and then smiles.  
“Is there a matter, Ser?” She asks, knowing well enough there isn’t.  
He smirks.  
“Do you know what people say behind our backs, Your Grace?” He says.  
She laughs. It’s a sweet sound, with a slight edge of bitterness to it. He decides that he likes it.  
“Jaime, let us not jest ourselves.” She answers, her voice a little bit higher. “We have both spent much time not caring about what is said behind our backs.”  
She turns from him then, and looks away at the grass in front of her. He’s still looking at her when she turns to him. She smiles a little, but it is a sad one, resembling her laugh- as if she has just awoken from a deep slumber.  
In that moment, he is sure that he loves her.   
X  
He kisses her long and hard- trying to make up for long time, and she kisses back; starved.  
They’re at the Godswood again, a place where they can be without being Lyanna or Jaime. The wind is blowing, making the leaves sing, and she can honestly say that she hasn’t been this happy for a very long time. Her hands are at the back of his neck, clutching at his golden mane.   
When he pulls away, she looks at him for a moment, hesitating. She laughs a little, giddy at the feeling inside her. Something she’d forgotten. He smirks at her, one that makes her want to slap him on the shoulder. She shakes her head.  
Then she pulls him to her again, and his mouth claims hers. 

X

Author’s note: So, yeah, I’ve recently become a fan of this pairing, and I cannot stop writing about it. There’s more to come as soon as inspiration strikes. As always, I’d love to know what you thought, and if you would like to- leave a request. 

Note: This story had its inspirations, like everything does.


End file.
